Angel's Daughter
by sunflower1997
Summary: Kathryn is the daughter of Castiel and a human, and when she meets the daughter of Lucifer, Jocelyn, they become best friends. To keep Jocelyn alive, they lie to Sam and Dean, saying that she is the daughter of Gabriel. But when the real daughter of Gabriel appears, their plan falls apart. (OC/Sam shipping story: beware)
1. Chapter 1

((Yes guys, I realize Nephilim are mentioned in spn, just ignore that and especially the fact that they thought nephilim are abominations. just go with the story as if nothing's wrong. this is somewhere in the middle of season 6. before Castiel was even thinking of taking in the souls from purgatory and after Sam got his soul back.))

Sam slowly shook himself into awareness. A beautiful voice was singing. He opened his eyes. A woman stood facing away from him, gripping the bars of their cage. Her hair looked dark brunette in the shadows. She wasn't very tall, he saw. Dean was sitting beside her, his head above her belt. He turned and saw that Sam was awake.

"Sammy," he whispered. He scooted closer and helped Sam sit up. His left eyebrow was bandaged with a white square of gauze.

"Dean," Sam grumbled, struggling to prop himself up on his arms. He stared dazedly up at the woman. "Who is she?"

"I don't know," Dean replied, staring back at her. She suddenly turned her eyes on them. She smiled at Sam.

"How are you feeling?" she asked cheerfully. She walked over the ground silently. Sam looked down and was surprised she could be so quiet. The floor was littered with what looked like mice bones, rat bones, cat bones, dog bones, and even some- "Ugh, human." She nudged away a skull with her boot and knelt next to Sam. Her hand met his forehead and her bright blue eyes met his hazel ones. He was glad it was so dark. No girl had ever just paraded up and stared this deeply into his eyes before. She nodded and sat back, Indian style in a clear patch of floor. She waited, ready to listen.

Sam and dean exchanged glances. Dean huffed impatiently. The younger of the brothers used his time wisely, taking in her appearance. Her face was slightly rounded, with the merest hint of cheekbones. Her eyes were aquamarine. Her eyebrows made her look playfully intrigued. If he couldn't have seen her face, he would have thought she was smiling. Her lips were dark pink. Her hair, which appeared to be dirty blond, was curled and slightly frizzy, falling down a little past her shoulders.

She was wearing brown leather boots and faded, slightly torn blue jeans with a leather belt. Her top was a dark gray ACDC shirt. She had a greenish gray utility jacket tied around her waist. A few wristbands encased one wrist and a black watch circled the other. Sam noticed a leather strip with a pendant tied around her neck. The pendant was an Anasazi healing charm. Little demonic symbols and devil's traps decorated the leather necklace and belt, and there was even an anti possession symbol on the toe of her left boot.

"Are you a hunter?" Sam asked finally.

"Of sorts." She smiled again. "I'm Kathryn. Bet you can't spell it." She laughed shortly and plowed on. "Call me Kat. What are your names again?"

"Sam and Dean," Dean answered, pointing between them.

"Nice to meet you."

"You too," Sam replied.

"Why were you singing?" Dean asked rather rudely. "Life isn't a musical, you know." Sam was appalled at his tone, but Kat just laughed. She didn't seem to mind it at all.

"Yea, remind me to kill myself if it ever becomes one," she laughed. "Unless it's all ACDC, Bon Jovi, and Zeppelin. That would be pretty cool. Anyways, I was singing because I was trying to get my father's attention."

"Your dad's a prisoner here too?" Sam asked, searching out between the slats.

"No, of course not," she replied with a snort. "You think I'd just be calmly singing if he was a prisoner here?"

"Wait, you mean he's close enough to hear you and he hasn't come to help yet?"

"Some dad," Dean muttered.

"No, you don't understand," she interjected. "My father is an Angel of the Lord."

Dean seemed taken aback at her words. She bit back a grin as confusion and realization flitted their ways over his handsome face. Sam didn't seem comforted, merely confused. She glanced between the brothers. They didn't _look_ like brothers: they _felt_ it. There was something in the way their glances were perfectly in sync that made them feel… correct. It was like they were good actors paid to get the timing right and who took pride in doing their jobs better than anyone else. When Sam had been unconscious, Dean had been skirting the conversation lamely. Several questions went unspoken and unanswered because Sam usually asked them and Dean didn't want to interrogate without his little brother.

But now Dean was a vision of self-confidence concerning Kathryn. Arrogance and his playful rudeness were ever present before Sam's woken eyes. There was even a difference in posture, a lean towards his brother, a head casually lilted away, knelt down so he could push in front to protect Sam if need be.

Sam seemed casual in a 'where's-the-monster-that-lives-here?' sort of way. His hazel eyes had been darting constantly, taking in everything. His posture was stiff, ready to leap into action if the need arose. But when Kat had said her father was an Angel, there was a different sort of guarding. His shoulders subconsciously, very slightly, rolled forward, just enough for her to notice, guarding something deeper than a heart or a lung. Guarding something worth so much more.

All of these things Kat took in with a blink and the start of a breath. Then time started again and the men were recovering… if that was the word. Dean wasn't blinking or breathing. Sam gulped, tilted his head in confusion and gave her a carefully questioning glance, as if he had heard wrong. 'Aww, that's so cute,' Kat thought. His face cleared and Dean blinked out of his reverie. Sam was the first to regain his voice.

"Your father's an Angel?" he asked.

She nodded. The brothers exchanged a glance. "He came for me about a year ago on my birthday, telling me what I was. He was so happy to see me." She grinned, remembering it.

"Anyways," she continued after a moment. "He told me he could always hear me singing and he would always come when I sang. We all three need out, so I figured it would be a good time to call." She paused, waiting for questions. Sam took advantage of the silence.

"Would you mind if Dean and I talked in private?" he asked. He cast a glance at Dean.

"Go ahead," the woman answered. "I'll keep calling." She stood, turned, and went to grip the bars of the cage. Her voice rang out sweetly in the rank of the sewer.

_"I've heard there was a secret chord  
That David played, and it pleased the Lord  
But you don't really care for music, do you?"_

Sam hadn't realized he was in pain until the pain was suddenly gone. Even Dean seemed to feel the lessening as they stood and paced to the other end of the cage.

_"It goes like this  
The fourth, the fifth  
The minor fall, the major lift  
The baffled king composing Hallelujah_

_Hallelujah, Hallelujah_  
_Hallelujah, Hallelujah"_

Dean's whisper broke Sam away from Kat's voice. He snapped back to reality. Relieved to see that he wasn't the only one distracted so plainly by the beautiful song, he asked Dean to repeat himself. "What?" he asked foggily.

Dean's eyes were unfocused and glazed. "Uh," the older brother mumbled, rubbing his eyes. The bandage above his eye fell off. Where there had been a gash, there was now only a tiny scratch. "Right, sorry. So do you think she's really part Angel?"

Sam glanced at her. He didn't have a doubt. She was _at least_ half Angel. Her voice, her face, the way she walked and moved, there was no way she couldn't be at least half. Aloud he said, "I don't know." Dean gave him a look that said, 'Bitch, tell the truth.' "There are stories about half human-half Angel beings. They're called Nephilim."

"I thought Nephilim were supposed to be giants or something?" Dean muttered, blinking in and out of the haze falling over them. He turned to Kat and growled, "Could you sing a little quieter please?" She did, and it didn't work at all. If anything, the haze grew thicker. "She's obviously not a giant."

"It also says they're the children of fallen Angels and men," Sam said. "The question is, which fallen Angel is it?"

"I don't know," Dean muttered. Sam glanced over at Kat as she sang. Her voice changed pitch with ease as she started over.

"Should we tell her?" Sam asked.

"Tell her what?"

Sam shook his head to try and empty it of the fog. "That she's not the daughter of an Angel." His voice seemed disjointed from his mouth and his speech slurred heavily.

"No, Sammy." Dean sounded high. "She'll stop singing."

Sam fought the trance as it fell more heavily on him. He walked over and shakily tapped her shoulder. Kat turned to him and smiled, holding the note longer and sweeter than ever. Her voice aimed at him was too much. He stumbled toward those eyes, glowing aquamarine in the dark, towards that beautiful smile. She caught him as he stumbled into her. She looked concerned.

"Sam, are you okay?" she asked, worried.

His breath caught in his throat. He was never surer he was lying when he said, "You're not the daughter of an Angel." She stopped smiling. It felt like she had punched him. The trance fell away with a silent thud and a… slither? That was why she wasn't smiling. She tugged Sam to the ground and ran to Dean, pulling him over and shoving him down beside his brother. She slipped between them, staring up between the slats of the grate. Up close she smelled like candy flowers. Sam turned his eyes where hers were aimed.

The slithering was sickening, moving above them. He could see the ceiling over 10 feet above the slats, but not see anything making the noise. He strained his eyes.

"Don't bother," she said. Her voice was cold. Her face was set in stone.

"What is it?" Dean asked. She hissed for him to be quiet. The slithering was moving away down the sewer. The silence was tense. Sam could hear her breathing was ragged. She was afraid. Sam moved a tiny bit closer to her. His shirt by his belly brushed the jacket still tied around her waist. When the last echoes of the creature had faded into silence, Kathryn allowed them to quietly sit up. Sam didn't move away.

"Please tell me neither of you _saw_ it," she begged, closing her eyes.

"No," Dean answered for both brothers. She sighed in relief.

"Good," she breathed. "That was a basilisk."

"What the hell is a basilisk?" Dean asked.

"An ancient breed of snake," Kat replied.

"Like from Harry Potter?" Sam asked. Dean turned and stared at him, frowning. Sam deliberately didn't meet his eyes.

"Sort of," she said, not noticing Dean's disappointment in Sam's geekiness. "You know how in Harry Potter if you look at it you're supposed to die?" Sam nodded. "Well, that's how it is in real life, only you can only see it if it's hunting you. That's your only warning that you're going to die. They never fail at a hunt."

"We were here after disappearances once every-"

"Twenty years over the past hundred, yes," Kat interrupted. "That's whenever they can eat. Once every twenty years. This one's due for a meal."

"So what, we're next?" Dean asked.

"What did I just tell you?" she snapped. "None of us could see it, so we're all safe. Plus they don't raise their meals beforehand. We're a trap for someone."

"Who?"

She stared back at Sam without blinking. "My dad."

The brothers stared. "How long have you known?" Dean demanded furiously. "You were willing to let an Angel die to get us out?"

"I only just found out when you guys said you couldn't see it," Kathryn snarled. "Calm your tits!" Sam snorted loudly and looked away from Dean. He could feel his brother's furious gaze burning into him, but he didn't care. This girl was talking to Dean as if she _was_ Dean. A short, blond, skinny, woman version of Dean, but all the same.

Dean was silent for a moment. Then he spoke. "Well, little Miss Angel," he snorted. "How do we kill it?"

"We don't."

"Drive it away?" he questioned hopefully.

"As far as I can tell, salt doesn't work," she replied. "Weasels do. And if a rooster crows they're supposed to die. But this works just as well." She pulled out a long silver blade. Sam breathed in sharply. "An Angel blade." It looked just like Castiel's. "This could kill it, but we would have to be able to see it."

"So how do we kill something we can't see?" Dean asked.

"We don't."

"I'm already sick of you saying that about killing things."

"Shut up, Dean," Kat growled. "If Dad gets here and zaps us out fast enough, it'll be okay and he won't get killed. Some other Angel can get it. Besides-" She snorted. "-he's wearing some guy to the prom. If the dress falls off, that stupid snake gets the full fury of a naked Angel. It won't survive that."

"You're willing to risk your own father for this?" Dean asked quietly.

"He's an Angel, he can just pop back to Heaven and wait for a new vessel," she said. "Besides, whoever's doing this is either trying to kill Angels and doesn't know how, or are trying to kill basilisks and do."

"You think somebody's controlling it?" Sam asked. She simply pointed to a symbol painted on the wall. It was written in dark, dripping- "Is that blood?"

"The blood of a lamb," she assured. "Used in a basilisk binding spell. Whoever made it is controlling this thing and forcing it to go after certain targets."

"How strong is the spell?" Dean asked.

"Imagine trying to walk a whale on a piece of twine up a mountain in the snow," Kat said, thoughtfully cheerful. "Not _that_ hard."

"I really hope you're being sarcastic." Dean was not amused.

"I don't know exactly how well it will hold," she continued realistically. "I didn't see the ceremony and I'm not very good at sensing power yet. It's above petty little charms like this-" she tugged on her Anasazi pendant. "-but other than that, I can't tell."

"Why do you wear that one anyways?" Dean snapped. "It only deflects Windigos."

"I'm afraid of Windigos," she replied calmly, gracing him with a look that said, 'you dumbass.' "Problem?" She raised an eyebrow. Dean shook his head and looked away. Sam looked at her and playfully returned the look she had given Dean, smiling. She grinned.

"Okay, so what do we do now?" Sam asked.

"You two stay quiet," she replied. She tucked her head down, closing her eyes and facing her lap. Her pink lips wiggled a bit as she mouthed a prayer. Then she stood up, paced around, looking above them carefully. She stopped and stared. A pinhole of moonlight shone down from the ceiling. "Maybe he'll hear my favorite chords," she murmured half to herself. Her mouth opened and Sam was captured again.

_Maybe there's a God above  
But all I've ever learned from love  
Was how to shoot at someone who outdrew you  
It's not a cry you can hear at night  
It's not somebody who has seen the light  
It's a cold and it's a broken Hallelujah_

_Hallelujah, Hallelujah_  
_Hallelujah, Hallelujah_

She grit her teeth for a moment. "Second favorite next," she muttered over her shoulder. She was clearly very frustrated. She began anew.

_Your faith was strong but you needed proof  
You saw her bathing on the roof  
Her beauty in the moonlight overthrew you_

Sam could feel the passion in her words, could feel her singing straight to him about her. His heart thrummed in his chest.

_She tied you to a kitchen chair  
She broke your throne, and she cut your hair  
And from your lips she drew the Hallelujah_

_Hallelujah, Hallelujah  
Hallelujah, Hallelujah_

Kathryn's voice rang out, sweet and loud. It ricocheted around the sewer, vibrating the thick air. Her passion seeped into Sam's bones. He could tell she was getting desperate. She gripped the bars tight and looked at her feet. "Come on, Father, please," she begged under her breath. "I never sing this one. I saved my favorite for you." She looked up. Sam could see the desperation burning in her eyes as she stared at the pinhole of moonlight. Her hunger was evident in every note and vibration in her favorite verse.

_There was a time when you let me know_

Her face clouded with frustration.

_What's really going on below  
But now you never show it to me, do you?_

She looked down again, and the hurt of betrayal flowed off her in waves. Her voice gradually grew louder with the next few lines.

_And remember when I moved in you_

She threw her head back and sung her heart out.

_The holy dove was moving too  
And every breath we drew was Hallelujah  
_

Kat held the note until her voice broke. A better word would have been 'shattered.' It tore itself out of her throat. It smashed itself against the walls until it faded away. She gripped the bars and faced dead ahead. She could feel Sam and Dean's eyes on her, burning holes in her flesh. 'Look away,' she begged silently, throat and eyes burning. 'Look away before I break.' She still hadn't made a move or a noise.

She slowly lowered her face so she was facing the ground again. Her knuckles went white. Her shoulders shook. She was trembling. She fought to control her breathing. Suddenly she spun and burst out.

"Dammit, Dad!" Her voice slammed against the ceiling as she screamed. Sam and Dean jumped.

"Shh," Sam hissed. She ignored him.

"Where are you? I'm right here! Not exactly hard to find!" She was fuming, hot, angry tears threatening the verge. "I waited! I waited for you! I saved my voice for you and you left me!" She threw her arms open and faced the sky. "Come find me, you bastard!" Kat let her arms down but tried pushing her voice louder. It shattered again, but she still pushed. "_Help us!_" Silence answered her. Sam and Dean were holding their breath. Just as the tears were about to spill over, she heard a voice in her head.

_'If you know my name, I will come,'_ it whispered. A light burst in the back of her mind. A name was whispered in her head. She looked up again.

"Castiel," she cried. The name felt foreign on her tongue, but it felt good somehow. "Castiel, I need you!" She heard the rustling of wings behind her.

"Kathryn," a familiar, scruffy voice said. She spun around.

"Daddy," Kat cried. She fell into his arms, sobbing. His trench coat enveloped her in his embrace. His stubbly cheek rested against her forehead and his dark, curly hair cast a shadow over her face. Her tears spilled easily down her cheeks onto his blue tie and white dress shirt. She sobbed heavily against his chest. "How could you leave me alone?" she sobbed.

"Kathryn, I'm sorry," Castiel replied. His arms were still wrapped around her as he nudged her chin up to face him. His cerulean eyes met her aquamarine ones. "You had to learn my name on your own."

"Why?" she asked, burying her face in his shirt. More tears slipped down her cheeks.

"I needed to know when your training was ready for the next step." He half smiled reassuringly. "You can sing any time you want now. I will come when you pray." He hugged her tightly to him. "By the way," he whispered in her ear. "We need to work on directing your voice. You drugged both of them when you were only trying to impress Sam with your voice." His eyes were full of mischief. Kat laughed shortly and buried her face in his shirt again.

When she opened her eyes, they were in a subway tunnel emerging into early morning sunlight. A black '67 Chevy Impala was parked in front of them. Dean grinned and jogged up to it and ran his hands over the hood. "Hey, baby," he purred. "Did you miss me? 'Cause I missed you!"

"We are out of the range of the basilisk," Castiel said. "I transported the car here. We are now in New York City. Another Angel will be sent to kill the basilisk. Angels can always see them. Kathryn couldn't see it because of her human blood."

"She better not have any dents in her," Dean snapped over his shoulder. His eyes were glowing happily as he looked at his car. Kat laughed shortly and smiled at him.

"Nice car," she said. Dean looked back at her, grinning.

"Not as nice as you'll think yours is," Cas said. A pair of keys was suddenly dangled in front of her face. The symbol on the chain was a running horse.

She screeched. "What?" she cried, now grinning. "No way!" Castiel nodded forward. A Mustang was parked in front of the Impala. It was a black '69 Fastback with clay red racing stripes and air intakes on the hood. The chrome shone brightly in the early morning sunlight. She squeaked, grabbed the keys, and ran to the car. "Thanks, Dad! It's gorgeous, I love it!"

"The trunk," Cas ordered. Kat raced to open it and found an arsenal. Several sawed-off shotguns were scattered around in a hidden compartment beneath the actual trunk. There were several Angel blades, a few knives of silver, bronze, iron, and regular steel. A few stakes of different kinds of wood were littered throughout the trunk. Silver, iron, and salt shotgun rounds were stacked in neatly labeled boxes. A few boxes of silver and regular bullets were pinned by a huge book. The book was leather bound and old. About ten other books like it were scattered throughout the trunk. A small wooden box was on the far right side of the trunk. She opened it and grinned.

"FBI, Park Ranger, Police Officer, college student," she listed off the types of IDs she now had. "Thanks, Dad!"

"Hey," Dean called from the passenger side of the Mustang. "Beer." He pulled out three cans from a small cooler on the passenger side.

"Gimme," Kat cried, grasping at one playfully. Dean grinned and raised the can over his head. She took the one from his other hand instead. He laughed. Castiel was the only one who didn't drink one. Sam and Dean leaned on the hood of the Impala while Kat and Cas stood against the now-closed trunk of the Mustang.

"So, Cas," Dean said, opening his beer. Kat gave her father a confused look.

"I know them," he explained briefly. She nodded and took a drink.

"You never told us you had a kid," Sam said. Dean grinned.

"Who's the baby mama?" Dean asked mischievously. Castiel tipped his head to the side, confused.

"Castiel said that he combined his DNA with that of both of my parents," Kathryn replied for him. "He's like daddy number two for me."

"So you're basically a science fair project?" Dean asked. She felt a slight twinge of annoyance.

"I was touched by an Angel and borne by a human," she smarted. "I'm a Nephilim, not a test-tube baby." She saw Sam flash his brother a smug glance. She bit back a smile and turned to the Angel. "So what's this about me knowing your name?" Castiel took a deep breath.

"From the moment you met me, an invisible bond has been forming," he said in his husky voice. "A mental bond lapsing over anything: space, time, nothing affects it. When you knew the most basic information about me without being told, I knew the bond was ready for molding." His gaze had slowly grown sober and tense. "You will soon begin a new form of training."

Kat nodded, rolling her shoulders back slightly and feeling the muscles move fluidly. At first it had been information about the supernatural. Then physical conditioning. She was now smart, fast, strong, and what other people called 'gifted' with a weapon. Kat called it lucky. "I'm ready," she assured. Castiel didn't flinch. Kathryn felt the need to.

"Don't assume," he growled. His brow furrowed with worry. Suddenly Kat felt more like him than ever. She felt ancient and tired. "Go back to Phoenix." She nodded, tossing her empty can into the back seat and getting into the car. She saw Castiel stand back with the brothers as the engine roared to life beneath the black and clay red hood. She pulled away and pointed the car west. Sam waved at her from the rearview. She wondered if she would ever see him again.

"Cas, what's wrong?" Dean asked as they watched the car fade into the distance.

"She's not ready," Castiel fretted in a monotone voice. Sam stared after her, wishing he could hear her sing again and wondering if he ever would. He snapped out of it when Cas spoke again. "Imagine the worst job you've ever been on. Your worst days, worst injuries tripled and tossed onto her like it's nothing. If she doesn't do well in this form of training…" He looked over at Sam. His heart went cold. "She could be destroyed completely.


	2. Chapter 2

Kathryn fell to the ground. She could feel the blood running down her arms from the cuts on her back and shoulders. She looked up, searching desperately for her father's face. She found him, staring down at her with an expression of pure pity and regret.

"Push through the haze," he ordered. She fought to control her breathing as yet another cut etched across her left shoulder, spurting warm blood across her face.

"I can't," she sobbed. "I can't." Tears mixed with the blood streaming down her face. He reached down and touched her forehead with two fingers. The blood was gone and the cuts had never happened. Castiel turned and paced away. She sat up, wiping her tears away with the back of her hand. "I'm sorry," she apologized, struggling to her feet. "Let me try again-"

"You need to learn to differentiate between an Angel attack and actual pain," he interrupted angrily. "If you can't learn how, then there is no point in training."

"I'm sorry; just let me try again-"

"No," he said. "Not yet. We'll try again later. For now, go change into your dress."

Kat stopped pouting for a moment. She stared at him. "They're coming today?"

"Yes," Castiel murmured. "The Wingless are coming." Kathryn's breath caught in her throat. "Now go change."

Kat made her way to her room. Pain still lingered at the edge of her mind. They had been practicing for hours, trying to get her to defend against Angel attacks. Castiel had been forcing visions into her mind the entire time, just in case she ever met something that could do the same. He reasoned that if she could see what wasn't real, she could see what was. She entered her room and looked in her wardrobe.

The dress for the meeting had been picked out weeks in advance. It was a single shoulder strapped black dress. Iridescent blue ribbon was tied in a bow around the waist. It came down to her mid-thigh. Kathryn pulled her hair back partially in a French braid, letting the rest of it fall in wispy curls around her face. It wasn't very frizzy surprisingly. She slipped on her strappy black shoes. She sat down in front of her vanity mirror and put on her makeup. She used smoky eye shadow and liquid eyeliner to make her eyes look bigger and brighter. Her lips were layered with silvery blue lipstick. She attached a black lace and bead choker around her neck. A silver pendant hung from it. Kat stood up and looked herself up and down in her dress shop style mirror in the corner by her bed. Her legs looked longer than they had before and she looked curvier because of the blue ribbon around her waist. She smiled.

"Don't you look pretty," a voice sneered in her mind.

"You sarcastic son of a bitch," she said aloud in the same voice. She played with a curl by her ear, frowning and looking in the mirror at her shoes. She turned and exited her room. The Grand Hall was white with gold trim and high vaulted ceilings. A narrow white and gold table ran nearly the length of the room. The floors were silvery and gold marble. She heard a rustle.

"You look beautiful," Castiel said. Kat smiled.

"Thanks, Dad," she murmured. She paused, smile barely lingering on her lips. "Dad, are you… are you going to be here for the meeting today?"

"No." There was no pause, no change in his expression, no change in his monotone voice. She hung her head, frowning.

"Great," she murmured sadly. "I'll be showing my wings for the first time alone." Castiel stood closer to her and smiled reassuringly.

"You'll do fine. I've made quite a few enemies among the Angels, specifically Zachariah, Michael, and Uriel. I'm afraid their children may hold my faults against you. And only a few are coming today."

Kathryn nodded sadly, looking down, feeling a lump rising in her throat. "Okay," she murmured.

Castiel paused, eyes unfocused for a moment. "They're coming." With a slight flutter of his wings, he was gone. Kathryn was left alone in the great white and gold room, a speck of black and blue against the cleanliness. She took a deep breath. _Rustle_.

"Greetings," a voice said. She turned around. Several more Nephilim, sons and daughters between Angels and men, stood there. The man who had spoken was handsome and dark tan. "My name is Jacob. I am the son of Michael." His eyes were an unnatural green. Dark brown, curly hair fell into his eyes. He was wearing brown khaki pants, brown shoes, and a white dress shirt with a black tie. Everything about him was neat, even his minor amount of shaving stubble. His jaw was square, setting his gently pointed nose in relief from his slight cheekbones. He was the kind of handsome that came without trying. He smiled a tiny bit. It was like watching a lunar eclipse. Despite what would have been a gentle looking face, he didn't seem like someone who smiled a lot, and he certainly didn't act overly nice. The son of Michael. Great.

"My name is Taylor. I am the son of a Cherub," said a tall man with a bow. Kathryn immediately liked him. He wore black and red flannel over a dark gray shirt. His sleeves were rolled up, revealing a tribal tattoo band on one arm. His jeans were Wrangler and his boots were slightly dusty. He didn't seem to care that everyone and everything else was clean. He was grinning in the way a puppy does, showing straight pearly white teeth. His brown hair was buzzed short. He was tan, but not overly tan, and he was clean-shaven. He looked tough but very friendly.

A tall black woman stood behind Jacob. The whites of her eyes stood out in stark contrast to her extremely dark skin. She wore a yellow dress with darker golden and black flecks made to look like feathers. As she spoke, her eyes and white teeth flashed brightly. A lip ring shone silver. "Alaina, daughter of Rafael," she said coldly. She looked about six feet tall to the top of her head, which had cornrows of shining black hair. Kathryn's heart sunk. Were they _all_ twice her height?

A five foot six inch, thin figure side stepped from behind Taylor. She peered out from under his arm. She was wearing nice black jeans, a pair of gray sneakers, and a white blouse. She had a medium skin tone and dark brown eyes. Her light brunette hair fell in a smooth wave down to her lower back. She gripped her hands nervously in front of her.

"I'm-," she stuttered. "I'm Jocelyn." Jacob and Alaina turned coldly away from her. Taylor nudged her in front of him, nodding encouragingly to her. "I'm the daughter of Lucifer."

Jocelyn stared at the other woman, who looked about her age, 20. The blond one stared for a moment, then shook herself out of her reverie. "I'm Kathryn," she said. "I am the daughter of Castiel."

Kat jumped as Jacob and Alaina turned sharply around. She suddenly wished she had her Angel blade. "_You_ are the daughter of the traitor?" Alaina snarled. She had an African accent that Kat hadn't noticed before. Jacob's eyes were cold as he stared at her.

"Why did she get a bigger reaction than me?" Jocelyn asked angrily. "I'm the daughter of Satan! Just leave her alone!" Jacob lilted his head in her direction, icy green eyes never leaving Kat.

"Devilspawn," he murmured. Jocelyn flinched. Kat grew livid.

"How dare you judge us by our fathers!" she snarled. "You have no right!"

"Your fathers are the reason mine is stuck in the Cage!" Jacob hissed.

"I could say the same thing about yours," Jocelyn yelled back. "And did you hear what _daddy dearest_ helped do to Sam Winchester?"

Kathryn's heart froze. "Sam who?"

"Winchester," Jocelyn replied, calming down to explain. "Hunter, Lucifer's vessel , nice, seventeen feet tall, brother named Dean meant to be Michael's vessel, friends with your dad?"

Kat took a deep breath. "What did Michael do?" she asked hesitantly.

Jocelyn spun to face Jacob again. "Tortured him!"

"He threw him into Hell!" Michael's son snarled.

"No, my father and other Angels agreed that Sam fought to get control back from Lucifer," Taylor interjected. "Michael wasn't in his intended vessel, but he took over Sam and Dean's half brother Adam and was going to stop Sam from jumping in when the gate into the Cage opened. They fought on the edge and both fell in. _Fell_. I don't think Sam meant to drag Michael in as well."

"He still made Michael fall!" Jacob was fuming.

"That is no reason," Jocelyn screamed.

"And _that_ is enough," a calm voice added. They all turned. An old man in a gray suit stood by Kat's bedroom door. The Children of Angels fell silent, struck by awe. Behind this man hung a shadow of wings. Three wings spread on either side, light gray feathers splayed. Kat found her voice first.

"Who are you?" she murmured respectfully.

"I am Eremiel," the man said. "I was sent to witness the Striking of Wingprints. Since none of your fathers are here, I must oversee you."

"Well, we are truly grateful Eremiel," Jacob said, voice smooth with honey. "But my question is our fathers-" he gestured to everyone but Kathryn. "-are trapped or dead. Where is Castiel? Has cowardice caused him to-"

"Jacob, that is enough," Kathryn said quietly, her eyes never leaving the three-winged Angel. "I am here, my father is not. You do not have any reason to hate me, so hold a civil tongue or be silent." Her voice was still quiet, but her blue eyes flashed away from Eremiel and locked onto Jacob with a fierce fire burning in the pupils. "I am prepared to take you as you are. Extend the same courtesy." She looked away from Jacob and back to the Angel.

The old man seemed pleased. "Today you will all earn your first wings," he said finally. His hands clasped calmly in front of him. "Kathryn will go first." Kat froze, heart now pounding fiercely. "Step forward."

She was shaking. Sweat beaded on her forehead. She clutched at the hem of her dress as she reached him. He held up a hand in the familiar, maddening gesture of two fingers. They made contact with her forehead.

Everything shattered with a tremendous crash. She didn't have the breath to scream. Pain and a huge relief fought over her limbs. The pain reached her head and focused there, dwindling and dying everywhere else. It held on for dear life, burning like star fire in her brain. She fell onto her knees and doubled over, clutching at her head. Sensation pounded in every nerve. She could feel the minute differences in the level marble floors, feel her dress around her more acutely than before, felt her heart thrumming under her ribs. She thought she would die from overexposure soon. The pain sputtered. It gave up.

She felt like she was flying. Soaring. She stood up. Her stomach bottomed out. She didn't even feel a lingering pain. It was gone. Had it ever been? She looked at Eremiel and smiled. She turned slowly to face the others. She could see every detail of them. Her vision detached from her and turned for their perspective. A shadow of wings hit the wall behind her. They were small, cerulean, broken hawk's wings with bent feathers. The blue was so beautiful. The wings were broken yet magnificent. She felt nonexistent muscles in her back roil and the wings tucked back against her, shadows hidden now. She moved to stand against the table.

Jacob was next. He either had a high pain threshold or his didn't hurt as badly. The son of Michael clenched his jaw and stood proudly. The shadow of his wings shone stark black and noble. They were huge and perfect, shaped like a sparrow's wing.

Alaina stood forward but eremiel looked at Taylor. The full Angel's fingers touched the Nephilim's forehead. Taylor doubled over instantly, face contorted in pain. After a few long heartbeats, his face cleared and he stood up. The shadows of his wings were black and red, splayed like bent owl wings with fluffy feathers. As he stepped back, Alaina shoved her way to the front.

She grit her teeth and clenched her fists. She repeatedly flinched. Finally, she stopped and looked up. A dark golden shadow appeared, owl's wings. Jacob nodded at her and stepped aside for her to stand by him.

Finally, it was Jocelyn's turn. Eremiel murmured something to her. Her eyes lit with fear and she looked back at Kathryn. The Angel's fingers met her skin.

She collapsed, writhing and screaming. Kathryn had to fight hard not to rush to her. The Wingless's screams cut deep into her. Kat's wing shadow appeared again. She felt the muscles again, closing tighter and tighter as the broken wings folded around her, as if she could block out the noise with the invisible feathers. She couldn't handle it anymore.

"Jocelyn," she screeched, falling down beside her. Jocelyn's glossy brunette hair was fanned over the marble. Her mouth gaped in another scream. Her brown eyes were clenched shut.

"No, dad!" she pleaded. "No, dad, please! I choose them! Not you! _Them!_ Don't take me! _Daddy!_"

"Jocelyn, it's me, Kathryn," Kat said, gripping Jocelyn's arms to her sides. "Lucifer can't get you. Wake up! You chose us! Stay with us! Pull through!"

A black shadow of wings was beginning to form beneath the fallen woman's body. They were long, graceful stork's wings.

"Jocelyn, please come back," Kat begged. She looked desperately up at Eremiel. "Do something!"

"I can't," he replied calmly.

"Whose side are you on, anyways?" she snarled. "Letting us go first and acting like you like us but you give us more pain!"

"Those are the scars you've carved into your soul," he explained. She turned back to Jocelyn. A sudden surge of anger gave bite to her voice.

"Dammit Josie!" she screeched. "Wake up, you son of a bitch! _Come back to me now!_" The shadow suddenly turned from black to bright white. Kathryn shielded her eyes.

"Kathryn," Jocelyn murmured, sitting up. Her white wing shadows still shone behind her. They faded, leaving the light room dark in comparison.

"Kat," the blond girl replied. "Call me Kat."

"Josie," Jocelyn said. She smiled. "Thank you. You pulled me back."

"What are friends for?" Kat laughed. Josie paused. Her eyes flickered down.

"Friends," she muttered.

Taylor walked over and knelt down. "Yeah," he said. "Friends. Why?"

"Nothing."

"No, what?" Kathryn asked.

"It's just…" Josie paused. "I've never really had friends before. Or… or a family."

Kathryn suddenly snorted in laughter. "Sorry," she laughed at Jocelyn, who looked slightly hurt now. "I'm not laughing at you, I promise. I just realized: We're all cousins!" The three Nephilim on the floor turned and looked at the other two standing nearby. Alaina and Jacob scowled. Taylor took a sidelong glance at the two women beside him. All three sitting on the ground simultaneously burst into laughter.

"Aha-ha," Taylor gasped. "That's so great!" He wiped away a tear. His laugh was loud but genuinely cheerful and pleasant, coupled with an attractive grin. Kat and Jocelyn looked over at Jacob and Alaina again. The bitterness in their faces made the girls unable to breathe from laughing. They were doubled so far forward they were head to head, laughing into each other's ears. Kat's blond hair curled over Josie's straight brunette hair. The pale face was very red, and the tan girl's brown eyes were nearly black next to Kathryn's aquamarine eyes. Kat's laugh was loud and booming, while Josie's was more quiet and giggly.

"What are you laughing about?" a familiar voice asked. Kat looked up and calmed down enough to say, "Look, they got sick of us and stormed off!" She started laughing again.

"Those nutballs," Taylor said goofily. Jocelyn fell backwards into him, clutching her stomach.

Castiel stood over his daughter, niece, and nephew, awkwardly glancing around. He sighed impatiently.

"Castiel." Eremiel stood behind him. The Angel in the trench coat turned around.

"I'm sorry about them," he began quickly, but the three winged Angel stopped him with a hand.

"They are very young," he replied. "Let them enjoy themselves. In the meantime, I must speak with you." They exited into Kathryn's room, leaving the new Winged to themselves. "It is about Kathryn's wings."

"Did she do well?" Castiel asked quickly. "Is she okay?"

"I've never seen anything like it," Eremiel sighed.

"What is it?"

"Her wings. They formed broken."

Castiel froze. "Is that why she has been doing so badly in training?" he asked anxiously.

"Yes." Eremiel didn't flinch, but his gaze softened.

"Can we fix it?" Cas asked.

"If we break them, we may be able to set them correctly-"

"But?" Castiel clenched and unclenched his fists.

"They may never be normal." Eremiel paused. "Or she may never grow them back." A few long moments of silence stretched between them. "It's very peculiar. Jocelyn blames herself for everything. The scars she has planted on her soul equal that of Sam Winchester. Her scars don't affect her wings. But Kathryn's do."

"What does that mean?"

"She has scarred her soul more than Lucifer and Michael did to Sam," he explained. "She is blaming herself for something. She has broken her own wings."

The door flew open. Someone was framed in the doorway. "Castiel, Eremiel," Kathryn gasped, winded. Her blond hair was puffed up again and her blue eyes were wide. "Sorry to interrupt, but I turned around and Taylor noticed something! Our wings are tattooed or scarred onto our backs!"

Kathryn slipped her dress off and looked over her shoulder at the mirror there they were, tattooed brokenly over her ribcage in bright blue ink. She remembered Jocelyn's white scars standing out against the tan skin. Hers had looked perfect, every feather aligned to the detail. Taylor had been shy about removing his shirt, bur finally he had, revealing the black and red tattoo. Kat put on a t-shirt and pajama pants. There was a tiny knock on the door. "Come in," she called, sitting down onto the bed with a hairbrush in her hand.

Castiel entered. As always, he was disheveled, his blue tie loose under his wrinkled, white collar. The shirt was on the verge of being untucked from his black dress pants. His brown trench coat hung loosely around him, hanging open. Kathryn smiled at the unchanging stubble on his kind but tired face. His blue eyes, so very much like her own, were sad. It had always been a mystery to her human family where those eyes had come from. Kathryn knew she had the eyes of an Angel now, yet she was still jealous of the deep, cerulean blue of her father's. Now those enviable eyes were shaded by his black hair. Castiel took a deep breath.

"Kathryn," he said quietly. "I need to speak with you."

"About what?"

"Your training."

"Oh, okay," she said cheerfully, trying not to be fazed by his serious expression. "It should be easier now that I've got my wings, right? I mean, it's easier to start a fire with matches." She laughed shortly. Cas looked down at the cream colored bed set. Kat paused in the middle of running the brush through her hair. "What is it?" she asked, setting it down onto her blanket.

"I think that-" Castiel stopped. He looked down at the ground by his feet and took a very deep breath. His eyes met hers.

Her eyes shone at him hopefully. Quiet innocence glistened in the aquamarine depths. He could feel her hunger flowing off her in waves. He wanted to give her the answer she craved. The words almost flowed off his tongue. "_Yes, it will be easier. You will be great._"

"I can't," he murmured to himself. He was gone with a rustle of wings. Kathryn was alone.


	3. Chapter 3

Sam stared out the window of the Impala. His elbow rested on the door and his fist was propping his head up. Dean exited the diner, a small paper carry-out bag in his teeth, a bigger one in each hand. Sam opened the door and grabbed his. He had gotten a Caesar Salad with a little bit of extra chicken. Dean pulled his bacon cheeseburger out of his own bag and took a bite, crunching on the extra onions. They each had a bottle of Coke in a drink holder or on the dash. "What's in the little bag?" Sam asked, popping a piece of chicken into his mouth. Dean gave him a sly look.

"_I_ remembered the pie," he said cheekily. He relaxed and frowned at Sam's lunch. He sighed. "And I remembered your weird-ass salad, if that counts for anything."

Sam laughed once. "Not really, but okay." He took a bite. The lettuce crunched under his teeth. They both chewed for a moment.

"Hey, do you remember Becka Stanson?" Dean asked suddenly.

"From school or hunting?"

"School." Another bite was ripped from the burger.

"What school?"

"Chancelorville."

"Well that narrows it down," Sam sassed. "Weren't we at like eight Chancelorvilles over the years?"

"Don't be dramatic, there were only three." Dean licked a drop of ketchup from his thumb.

"Okay, three." Sam thought for a moment. "Was she the girl with the Kirby backpack?"

"No, the hot one."

"Narrows it down."

"Blond."

"Narrows it down."

"Homecoming night."

"Oh, right; you never made it to that dance." He took another bite of his salad. Dean looked at him. Sam waited. "What?" he snapped finally. Dean shrugged.

"Well?" he demanded.

"Well what?"

"Do you?"

"Do I _what?_"

"Have to repeat the whole question every damn time?" Dean asked smartly. "Seriously, Sammy, every damn time. That is far from casual."

Sam huffed. "Do I what, Dean?" he asked, exasperated.

"Remember her?"

"Dude, I remembered you never made it to the dance with her! Yes I remember!"

Dean's phone began ringing. Dean looked at the number and pointed at Sam. "This is not over," he said.

"What is there left to talk about?" Sam muttered angrily. He took a sullen bite of his salad.

Dean answered the phone with a grunt. "Yeah, this is Dean." He smiled at the other person's reply. Sam heard a woman's voice. "Well hey, kiddo," he said happily. He paused. "Myrtle Beach, why?" He paused, listening to an explanation. "Okay, where are you?" An answer. "Okay, well that's only a couple hours. No, we'll meet you." The voice got quieter. Sam could only hear Dean for a few moments. "Yeah. Of course I'll save the number. Yep, I'll give it to him. I'll have him text you. Yep. Couple hours. Yep. Uh-huh. See ya!" He hung up. As he slipped his cell back into his jacket pocket, he turned and grinned at Sam.

"Who was that?" the younger brother asked.

"Your little Angel is having car troubles." Sam cocked his head to the left.

"Who?"

"Kathryn." Sam froze in the middle of chewing. Dean threw his head back and laughed. "Sammy, your face! Priceless!"

"Did you just lie about that?" Sam asked angrily. Dean laughed harder. "Not funny, jerk."

"Oh, bitch, it makes it even funnier that you got pissed when you thought I was lying," the older brother laughed, wiping a tear from the corner of his eye.

"Careful, might smudge your makeup, you painted whore," Sam growled. He was secretly looking forward to his next meeting with Kathryn. It had been a month since their first meeting and they hadn't even talked since.

"Ah, Sammy." Dean grinned cheekily over at him. "Thou dost think me too much of a jerk." He started the car. "Kat is actually having car troubles."

"Where is she?"

"Small town N.C., not far from the border." He started the Impala.

"So we're gonna go help her?"

Dean turned, put his arm over the back of his little brother's seat, and started backing out. "Damn, Romeo," he muttered. "Great reaction to getting to see your girl."

"She is _not_ my girl," Sam grumbled.

"Oh, come on, you were smitten," the older brother laughed.

"In that case she's your girl too. Castiel already explained that she can use her voice to control the way people think and she didn't know how to control it." He stopped and thought for a moment. "Do you ever think what could happen if everyone heard her voice? She could cause world peace!"

"Or world war." Dean pulled onto the road. "No, Sammy, I think it's better if we keep that weapon in the barn until it's our only hope. Those things always go wrong in the movies."

"Life isn't a movie," the younger man muttered. Dean turned to look at him.

"Ours is." His face was set in stone. Sam turned away to stare out the window.

"One crappy writer." He thought about seeing Kathryn again. He thought about her voice. He would get to hear it again soon. Just a few more hours…

"Sammy!" Dean said louder. "Sam!"

"Huh? What?" Sam responded, snapping to.

"We're out of Myrtle," he said. Dean glanced over at his younger brother. "You all right?"

"Just thinking," Sam replied, rubbing his eyes. Dean looked back at the road.

"You were driving all night last night," he growled. "Try and get some sleep. You're tired. Plus it's creepy when you're just sitting there like that." He reached down, switched cassettes, and slow rock came on. Sam settled back and closed his eyes. Dean always did know how to get him to sleep when they were in the car.

"Aww, isn't he cute when he's sleeping?" a voice cooed, clearly amused.

"Add his teddy and he's friggin' adorable." Now _that_ was Dean. The door came open, letting one half of Sam's body fall. His head lolled to the side into the sunlight. He flailed for a moment, trying to block out the light.

"Sam, wake up!" the first voice laughed pleasantly. Sam felt Dean's boot connect with his right leg. He opened one eye.

"Rise and shine, Sammy!"

"Shut up, Shorty," he grumbled, sitting forward and rubbing his eyes with the heels of his hands.

"Hey, I'm shorter than he is!" the friendly voice complained. Sam looked up, smiling.

"There's a thin threshold between 'short' and 'fun-size'," he laughed. She was wearing a blue flannel shirt hanging open to reveal a white t-shirt. Her jeans had no holes in them this time and she had on the same devil's trap-branded boots. Her blond hair was pulled back in a French braid. Aquamarine eyes gazed brightly down at him. "Hi, Kat."

"Hi, Sam," she giggled. She turned to Dean. "what will it take for you to fix my car if you can?" The black and clay-red striped Mustang was parked beside the Impala in the motel parking lot. The hood was open and pouring steam bubbled over the chassis. Sam got out of the Impala and stretched. The motel was a dark rusty pink with greenish shingles and shutters. The neon sign was broken and missing a letter. It said "Moon _ance Motel."

"Well," Dean teased. "I'd have to see…"

"I'll get you lunch and dessert," she offered.

"Double bacon cheeseburger, extra onions, medium fries, one big slice of pie."

"Dude, why are we the same?" Kat asked, winking at him. Dean grinned. He handed the keys to his own car to Sam. Sam slid into the driver's side. Kathryn got into the passenger seat. Again he smelled her perfume. "What kind of pie?" she asked, rolling down the window as the engine roared to life.

"Any," the older brother answered. "You guys take your time, I need to take a look around and find what's wrong."

"Okay. Thanks Dean!" Sam pulled away, glancing over as she had an animated wave contest with Dean. She gave a loud whoop when he stopped in the rearview. "I win!"

"I'm starting to think he's overcharging you," Sam said, pulling into traffic.

"Yeah, I figured," Kathryn replied, leaning far back and propping her shin against the dash. Her right hand fell gently out the window into the breeze. "I hope it's an easy fix," she said after a few moments. "I haven't exactly got bundles of dough in the trunk. Plus I'm working a job here and I need my Baby."

She'd dropped the bait lightly, but didn't have to wait long before Sam nailed it. "I can't believe you both call your cars Baby," he murmured, sounding a mix between amused and flabbergasted. "What job are you working?"

"I've got the file back in the motel," Kat replied with a satisfactory grin. "I'll have to show you guys later, but until then I can give you the basics. Lady goes to microwave her dinner, gets microwaved instead. Door comes open, microwave doesn't stop. Bends down to shut door, brain fries instantly."

"Might not be our kind of thing," Sam said slowly. They slowly exchanged a glance. Kat started laughing.

"When is death by kitchen item not our thing?" she laughed. "Anyways, I thought that when I saw the crime scene. No EMF, no sulfur, no hex-bags, nothing out of the ordinary. The house didn't even have any herbs! They had just moved in. Brand new house, no bad history on the grounds, nobody bad nearby, the list goes on. But I went to check out the body because that little voice in the back of my head wouldn't shut up. So get this: missing heart-"

"So it is our kind of thing," Sam interrupted.

She glared at him. "Dude, really?"

"Carry on."

"… My Wayward Son," she sang quietly. She laughed and kept going. "Missing heart _and_ liver. Looked almost like a wanna-be doctor made incisions and didn't sew up."

"That's weird," Sam mumbled, pulling into the diner parking lot. "Still not done," Kathryn said impatiently. "Cuts both looked a few days old."

"When did the body come in?"

"Two days ago. I saw them yesterday. I was passing through and heard of a weird death, so I stopped by to check it out." They got out and went into the diner. "I'm buying," she announced. "Want anything? I'm _starving_!" They chose a window booth. The teenage waitress sauntered up, champing orange gum that smelled like pineapple.

"Yeah?" she asked unpleasantly.

"Double bacon cheeseburger, onion rings, and a coke," Kat ordered. She looked at Sam.

"Regular cheeseburger," he said. "Coke."

The girl sloppily wrote it down and stamped away. "So," Sam began again with the case. "We'll go over it again with Dean. I'm sure he'll have some sort of a smart-ass comment." Their drinks arrived. As Sam faced down at his soda to put his straw in, Kathryn grinned.

A straw wrapper bounced against Sam's forehead. "Hey!" he laughed. She took a nonchalant sip, smiling devilishly up at him. He raised an eyebrow. Kathryn choked, trying to laugh and not drown in the process. He watched with a smile as she laughed herself out. Their food arrived with the unfriendly waitress. Kathryn controlled her laughter, took a drink, and bit into the bacon cheeseburger. It was nearly the size of a softball.

"This is the best burger I've ever had," she mumbled around her mouthful. Sam watched, enthralled, as the burger disappeared bite by bite. Soon it was gone and she had started on her onion rings. Sam caught up and finished his burger, and by the time he was stuffed with his fries, Kat had finished hers, her coke, ordered Dean's food to go, and started on a piece of cherry pie. He took a small piece of crust coated in sugar. Kat smiled and allowed it. When she was finished, she pushed the plate away and pulled a wallet out of her back pocket. Sam huffed.

"You go a little overboard with this job," he said. There was a smear of blood on one of the symbols burned into the leather. It was demon proof, reaper proof, and had silver buttons sewn onto every corner and a silver button to hold it shut.

"Unless you're a hunter or a supernatural, you probably would just think I'm crazy," she said. She pointed to the smear. "Dead man's."

"Seriously?" Sam asked. He pointed at the bills she had left on the table. A devil's trap was scribed in Sharpie on the corner of every one.

"Is it a bit weird that I soak them in holy water?" she asked self-consciously.

"You're so weird," Sam laughed, sipping the last of his coke. Kat suddenly looked concerned.

"Good weird or bad weird?" she questioned.

"Good weird." Sam smiled.

_"Good weird."_ Sam's words ricocheted around her skull. Dean's burger and fries were hot in the paper sack. 'He likes me,' Kat thought hopefully. Her blond hair was now loose and blowing in the wind as they drove, her hand surfing the breeze out the window of the Impala. She basked in the warmth of the sun as it lit her happy face. She could smell the last remnants of Sam's scent fading from the seat. Sam turned up the volume. AC/DC began playing. She laughed and threw her head back, singing loudly.

Kathryn's voice had a different effect than it had the last time. Last time it had made him fuzz-brained and slow, off-balance and foggy. Now he was hyper-alert and ecstatic. He laughed and raised his voice beside hers.

_" __You really took me and you  
Shook me all night long  
You shook me all night long!"_

They sang together at the top of their lungs. Sam held the last note as long as he could before the next note. Kat sang it loud and skillfully.

_"Yeah, yeah, you shook me all night long!"_

"Dude, that sounded so cool," Sam called happily over the radio.

"Sam, you're gonna miss the turn," Kat giggled. It was far enough away that Sam didn't have to slam the brakes, which was good because Dean was watching. They turned in, shut the car off, and turned the radio down. Sam rolled out and faced Dean, smiling and still singing. Dean shook his head and turned back to the car. Kathryn bundled out of the Impala and sidled up next to the older brother, giggling and handing him his food.

"Double bacon cheeseburger, extra onions, medium fry, and a piece of cherry pie," she announced.

"You're great," Dean praised, greedily taking his food. He pulled out the burger and stared at it. He looked at Kathryn. "This is huge."

"If I can finish one, you can too," she laughed. Dean turned and looked at Sam, mouth gaping.

"_She_ finished one?"

"Swallowed it whole," Sam said blankly.

"Wow." The older brother turned to Kat, a pristine respect glowing in his eyes. It didn't take long before she burst out laughing.

"You look like you idolize me," she cried, fighting to breathe. He frowned, not amused, and turned back to the Mustang.

"You done?" he asked testily after a few moments.

"Yeah," she replied, wiping away a tear and softly clearing her throat. "What was it?"

"Hose leak. It was an easy fix."

"You know, Dean, you shouldn't take advantage of young women," Sam sassed. Next time don't overcharge."

"Shut up, Sam," Dean snapped back.

"Guys, it's fine," Kathryn interrupted. "I need your help with a job anyways."

"So whatever did this played Operation earlier this week, and his playmate died a few days later?" Dean asked.

"It appears to be so," Kat sassed in an accent, tapping her beer against Sam's. They both drank for a moment.

"But the microwave was the final straw?" Sam asked. Kathryn glanced over at him, his brow furrowed in confusion.

"Yep," she replied, biting back a smile. "I already did some badge work for the state police. I'm thinking it's time for the FBI to get involved."

"Okay," Sam said. "I'll go get us a room." Dean handed him a credit card. "You have a room, Kat?" She nodded. Sam walked away.

"I know what this is really about," Dean sneered, walking behind Kat and leaning in to whisper in her ear. "You just want to see Sammy in a suit." She was clearly holding back a grin.

"Yep," she slyly admitted. "Why do you think I called _you_ to fix my car rather than getting a local mechanic?"

"Because I'm a whore when it comes to fixing hot cars?" he guessed. She turned to look up at him.

"Well, yes," she said. Kathryn smiled slyly. "Then there's the thought of Sam in a suit. And, yet again, what girl in her right mind wouldn't want to see Dean Winchester bent over under the hood of a hot car fixing her engine? That's a show you could get cash for putting on."

Dean grinned smartly. "Yeah, I thought about being a stripper, but I like hands on work." Sam left the office of the motel.

"Sam," Kat called across the parking lot. "Dean wants to be a gigolo. You should be his pimp." Several people on the sidewalk stopped and stared. One old lady looked Dean up and down. She smiled a toothless grin.

"Call me when that show goes on, Honey," she called. Dean smiled awkwardly and waved. She winked and walked away. When he turned back, Sam was standing with his arms crossed, resting on the roof of the Impala. His shoulders were rolled forward and he was holding back laughter. Kathryn's head was planted in between Sam's shoulder blades. Her shoulders were shaking and she was red faced with laughter.

"Kathryn?" Dean called testily.

"Yeah?" She looked up, trying not to laugh. Dean became slightly amused.

"I think you've given me an idea of what to do in my free time." She couldn't hold it in any longer. She doubled over laughing, clutching her stomach.

"S-Sam," she gasped. "H-help, I c-can't brea-the."

"Help me pick out my stripper name?" Dean asked, grinning as she laughed harder. Kat clutched at Sam's shirt, falling over. Sam stared down at her, grinning happily at her. Her face was beet red.

"Sam, I can-n't bre-e-eathe," she gasped, now sitting on the ground by his foot, grabbing his leg.

"Alright, come on, Laughing Beauty," Dean said gruffly. "Give me your room key." She shakily handed him a key with the number 12 on it. Dean looked at Sam and pointed to Kat. "Get her."

Sam reached down and picked her up fireman style. She screamed. "Put me down, you son of a bitch!" She kicked wildly, and Dean could see Sam flinch as she hit him in the back. The manager ran out of the main office, looking startled.

"What's going on?" he demanded. He spotted Sam and the struggling woman. "Let her go! I'm calling the cops!"

"Wait," Kathryn cried. "Sam, turn around." He did so. The woman still draped over his shoulder looked up at the motel manager. "I am so sorry to have caused a commotion. I know them, they're not kidnapping me, I promise. I just don't like to be carried."

The manager nodded at her polite tone. "Just keep the noise down, will you?" he sighed.

"We'll be quiet, especially after dark," she swore. "Sorry!"

"Enjoy your stay."

"Have a nice day!" The manager walked away. "Sam, you can put me down now." He set her down.

Kat stumbled backwards. Instinctively, it seemed, Sam lashed out and caught her around the waist. One of his hands took hers. "Got it?" he asked quietly. She looked up and noticed he was blushing too. She pulled herself away with a cough.

"Um, yeah," she stuttered. "Thanks." He turned awkwardly around and started walking to room 12. Dean fell in beside Kathryn. She glanced over. "You son of a bitch, stop grinning like an idiot," she hissed at him angrily.

"I ship it," Dean whispered slyly. He grinned.

"Shut up," Kat laughed. Her body still felt the echoes of Sam's touch. Dean unlocked the door to the motel room and stepped inside.

A few days' worth of take out wrappers was bundled around a wooden trash can. The bed was covered in books, one little space bare where Kat had slept the past few days. The carpets were dark brown splotched with mud and spilled coffee. The reddish brown walls were covered in news clippings and legends. Dean walked up and looked. Kathryn grabbed the case file from the table.

"'The Devil and Tom Walker'?" Dean asked, pointing at the picture of the cover.

"In the story the guy's stingy wife gets taken and he finds her heart and liver wrapped in her apron." She handed him the copy of the coroner's report. "I was thinking maybe a cheap summoning spell."

"Hmm," Dean muttered. "Plausible."

"So this is what it looked like?" Sam asked, glancing at the file. Kat tossed him her phone.

"Pics in there," she said. "Also, I searched more deaths around here like this."

"Let me guess; nada." Dean opened a book and started flipping through it.

"Until I widened my search." Kathryn handed Dean a composition notebook of more coroner's reports. "Ten over the past three years. Guess what else?"

"Connections?"

"A family who was in the middle of this web, friends with all of the families of the victims. Some of the vics had disowned family members just a few weeks before they croaked."

Sam looked over Dean's shoulder as the older brother flipped pages in the notebook. He reached down and flipped back a page. His eyes widened. "Kathryn, do you have a blank body chart?" he asked suddenly, trading Dean the file for the book. She dug around in a pile of papers for a moment. Sam sat down at the table. When he had a hold on the chart, he traced each set of scars from the coroners' reports. Kat and Dean stared down at the page, confused, as he traced. Something clicked.

"Oh. My. God," Kat murmured as the gears in her mind turned. As Sam traced the final coroner's report, a devil's trap lay scrawled over the page.

"Son of a bitch," Dean muttered, looking a mix between pissed and scared.

"What is that?" Sam asked, frozen with the pen still touching the paper.

"They're sealing the bloodline," Kathryn growled.


	4. Chapter 4

"_Now_ it makes sense!"

"It does?" Dean asked incredulously.

"Yes!" Kathryn backed up and quickly paced the room. Somehow she didn't trip over the junk on the floor. "How did I not notice that?" She spun and stared at Sam. "You are a genius!" She raced over to him and threw her arms around his neck. "Thanks, Sam!" She kissed his cheek and released him. She spun and paced again, leaving Sam to blush furiously at an amused Dean. Kathryn was too busy knocking her way through a stack of books to notice Sam's discomfort, although Sam thought he noticed a slight blush on her cheeks too.

She started muttering under her breath, gradually gaining volume until Sam could hear- "Are you speaking Enochian?" he asked.

"What?" she snapped, pausing and staring wildly around the fallen books. She flipped her hand impatiently. "Yes, I was." She mumbled another Enochian phrase that instantly turned into English. "-where are you?" She reached a hand up to scratch her head, then stopped and leapt at the ground. "Ah, there you are!" Kathryn gathered up several leather bound books. "Hiding from me, you little jerks, I should keel-haul you!" She carried on picking up books and muttering endearing insults at them as she gathered them into her arms. The brothers exchanged a look. Dean twirled a finger around his temple.

"_Bat crap crazy_," Dean mouthed. Sam glared angrily at him. Dean shrugged. Kathryn slammed a book into Dean's chest. He held it and the others she handed to him.

"Sam, clear the bed," Kat ordered, picking up several highlighters and pads of sticky notes. When the bed was cleared, she walked Dean over to it and knocked the books out of his arms. She leapt onto the bed, opening a book with Latin script on the cover, and started writing stuff down from a green Post-It tab. She glanced up after a few moments of silence. "This is going to take a while," she said. "Make yourselves at home."

Sam and Dean sat in the room until suppertime that day. Sam eventually started reading Kathryn's hunting journal with her permission. Dean ended up upside down in the recliner, bouncing a tennis ball from Kathryn's duffle in front of his own nose. He huffed, rolled off of the chair, and went to stand at the end of the bed. He crossed his arms. Kathryn kept writing. He sighed. The Toshiba laptop in front of her lit up her face bluish-green. As her pen scratched over a page, searching, she opened her mouth.

"Look, Sam, Dean is magic," she muttered sarcastically. "He can _hover_."

"_When are you going to be done?_" Dean demanded through gritted teeth.

"Buzz off, hunter boy," she flashed back at him. He lost his temper.

"You listen to me _now-_" he began. Kat's eyes lashed and she stood up in a blink, tossing her book and notepad to the side. She paced to the end of the bed and lingered menacingly over him, brandishing a pen with what could easily have been deadly skill. Her irises burned bright blue.

"No, _you_ listen to _me_ now," she snarled, taking her last step as Dean backed away below her. "I am getting the clues together for an ancient bloodline-sealing, possibly world-threatening spell that is so old and dangerous it was destroyed before the first age began! Whoever solved this is about twenty quadrillion steps ahead of us. I am going as fast as I can with you interrupting me every _five fucking minutes_, so if you are _quite_ done being impatient as a _two-year-old_, I need you to go get us all some grub or _shut your trap!_" Sam would have been panting had he ranted like that. Kathryn wasn't. Her hair, now free and wild around her face, made her look like a blond Medusa. She was pale with rage and her eyes burned fiercely. Her fists were clenched at her sides and-

Sam's eyes moved past her to the wall behind her. "Woah," he breathed, but nobody noticed. Two cerulean blue shadows stretched behind her. From this angle, it took Sam a moment to discern the feathers in the broken wings. Dean gulped. 'Swallowing his pride, I bet,' Sam thought smugly. 'He's only ever seen Castiel's wings.' But Dean didn't seem to notice the torn shadows.

"Fine," the older brother growled, pulling his combat jacket on and pacing to the door.

"_And get me a goddamn Pepsi!_" The door slam was not more violent than Kathryn's scream. The shadows faded, leaving behind a blank wall. She fell backwards to sit on the bed. Sam heard the bed-frame crack. Kat flinched. Her hand reached across and behind her shoulder, rubbing between her shoulder blades. She let the pen be gripped loosely in her other hand.

Dean was so mad. Kathryn felt her wing bones click again. A sliver flaked off deep inside them, in the deepest part of the muscle on the wing-joint. Her fingers dug into the invisible muscles. They rolled painfully under her fingertips. She closed her eyes, working them deeper and hoping the bone would set again. 'Maybe if I- Nope.' She had tried spreading them. She let the muscles slowly relax. They cracked again. She grit her teeth and tried not to let Sam see. Sam. Kat lifted her head. Her muscles shrieked in protest, but she ignored them.

"Sorry about that," Kathryn murmured. She sat up. She felt the broken feathers drag on the bed sheets. She sat forward, still rubbing her wing joint. "Just a little stressed."

Sam shrugged. "It's okay," he said. "Dean will get over it." He paused. "Hey, Kathryn?"

"Hmm?" She reached over and grabbed the book again.

"I think I saw your wings." She looked up. "They're a really cool color of blue."

"Uh, thanks."

"No problem." Silence. "Um, I have a question."

"Shoot."

"Is there anything… wrong with them?"

"I don't think so," she said. "They've been like they are since I got them. Why?"

"Well, they look… broken."

"Yeah, I wondered about that. Dad saw them, and so did Eremiel. If there was anything really wrong, they would tell me."

"Who's Eremiel?" Sam asked.

"He's the Angel who's training all of us Nephilim," she responded, opening the book. "I have to get to work. If Dean finds out I yelled at him and then spent ten minutes talking to you, he's going to be pissed." She smiled at him. He smiled back. As she went back to work, he got up and grabbed a beer from the fridge.

"Want one?"

"I can't work well drunk," she laughed.

"Okay." Sam opened it and sat down in the recliner. "I'll just sit here quietly." He took a drink. The only sound was the fan on the ceiling, the clicking of laptop keys, and the scratching of a pen over paper. "Hey, why do you think Dean couldn't see your wings?"

"Sam," she warned.

He held up his hands. "Sorry." They lapsed into silence. Sam's mind drifted.

"Mind if I sing?" Kat asked.

"Go ahead." Sam took another drink and leaned his head back against the back of the recliner. Her soft hum filled the room slowly, quietly, with a quick and cheerful beat. Slowly, Sam could make out words.

"_Half the world won't know your name_

_Twice as many just won't care_

_But there are those around_

_Who need you more than you need them_

_So you just go ahead my friend"_

The next notes spread out long and sweet as her pen scratched to the beat.

"_You make your own way_

_Make it okay_

_I swear that I will be with you_

_And though the road may be long_

_I'll help you carry on."_

"Seriously?" Dean asked, walking into the room carrying several takeout bags of food and a bottle of Pepsi. "'I'll help you carry on'? Damn, that's so generic I'm gonna puke."

Kat looked up and stared at him. She glanced at the soda. "You got a Pepsi," she murmured.

"I believe your words were, '_Get me a goddamn Pepsi!'_ so yeah, I did get you a Pepsi," he replied with a smart-ass smile. He handed it to her.

"I'm sorry about earlier," she apologized, setting the soda in her lap. "It's really hard putting these together from scratch. I got a little short tempered."

"How about we forget anything ever happened?"

Kathryn stared at the hunter for a moment. "That's your smart-ass way of saying 'I fucked up but I don't want to apologize 'cause I'm a manly man', isn't it?" she asked.

Dean pointed at her with a bag full of what smelled like Mexican food. "Gold star for you, young lady," he said cheekily. Kathryn giggled and took the bag. "I didn't know what you wanted so I got you a couple tacos." He tossed a bag to Sam. "Sammy gets an enchilada." He sat down at the little table. "And Deanie gets a burrito." He pulled it out of the bag and smiled happily down at it.

Sam groaned. "Please tell me you didn't get any extra onions," he begged. Dean grinned.

"Okay, I didn't get any extra onions," the older brother smarted.

"You start getting gassy, I'm zapping your ass out the door," Kat said before downing a half taco in one bite. She set the other half down and took a drink of her Pepsi. She sighed and rubbed her eyes. "Okay," she said. "I tried to get the time first. It says it can only happen on a Friday the Thirteenth."

"Well, that gives us two weeks," Sam said.

"Piece of pie," Dean replied, smiling victoriously.

"Not exactly," she sighed. "You see, the spell requires hands clean of blood for a week and spiritual silence."

"They can't fight, kill, or basically think for a week?" Dean asked.

"Yep."

"What's the problem with that?" Sam asked.

"We'll have no more information to go off of for two weeks and then it will be too late." Kathryn sighed again. "Well, I guess the best option would be for me to use my Angel blood."

"What?" Dean questioned. He looked between his younger brother and the woman. "What the hell does that mean?"

"This person is going to have left hex bags near where the vics would have been. They need a twin of each hex bag near them for protection. If I have one of the hex bags from the vics, I may be able to pinpoint where the person sealing the bloodline is."

"Wouldn't they have somebody to protect them?" Dean asked.

"Hands free of blood," Sam responded. "That would count as getting hands bloody." He looked back at Kathryn. "Continue."

"I'm getting better at sensing energy levels." She furrowed her brow hesitantly. "I _might_ be able to get a general idea of where it's coming from if I've got one of the hex bags. No promises though. Um, should I pray to Castiel?"

"If you want." Dean sat down in the recliner again. Sam leaned forward in the wooden chair, propping his elbows on his knees. She saw his flannel shirt fall slightly open, revealing his gray t-shirt beneath it. She fixed her eyes on his face.

"Do you need him?" he asked.

"I just need someone to hold me down," Kathryn responded. "This takes a lot out of me. I need some sort of physical bond, like a hand on my shoulder."

"Okay, well, let's do some badge work and get a hold on one of the hex bags first." Dean stood up. "Come on, Sammy, let's go change." He glanced at Kathryn. "You get dressed in your state cop whatever." He walked out, biting out of his burrito.

"Ugh, I can smell your extra onions," Sam groaned.

"Not yet you can't," Dean smarted. "You will soon, though!" The younger brother groaned again as he followed his brother out the door. He shot Kat a helpless glance.

"Good luck, Sam," she said. She raised her voice. "We're taking my car later."

Dean poked his head back in the door. He looked ready for a fight. "What did you say?"

"They've already seen mine. They'll know who's coming. And besides, Feds don't usually get to drive '67 Impalas." She winked at him. "We'll just take the Mustang."

"We'll get to see just how fast your pony goes."

"I'll bet she's faster than Bambi out there." They locked eyes.

"Bambi? Really?"

"You called mine a pony. I could've said Lion-chow, you know."

"Hi ho Silver!" Dean paraded himself out of the room again. She laughed and turned back to her bed as Sam shut the door behind him. She pulled on her leather jacket, checked to make sure she had her ID, flask of holy water, and silver switchblade, then turned her belt inside out so the devil's traps were hidden once more. It was a reversible belt and only one side was branded with hunter's friends, as Jocelyn called them. She re-braided her hair, making it look much more professional. She changed her shoes to sneakers. A piece of paper fell out of her pocket. She bent down and picked it up. A smile lit her face.

It was them getting ice-cream, which almost never happened because of the drama going on in Heaven that Castiel was trying to fix. He had gotten a wind-up camera from a CVS on the corner beforehand. When Kathryn was fighting to get a drop of ice-cream that was threatening dropping off of her chin, Castiel had taken the picture. His kind face was captured above the reflection of the flash in the window of the shop, and he was smiling broadly at the funny face Kathryn was making. Her tongue was trying to reach down and get the drop of brown as it slid down her chin. It was blurry, but the memory was so clear.

(SIX MONTHS AGO)

Flash. Snap. Click, click, click, click. "Dad!" Kathryn laughed. She hadn't yet known his name. "Did you just get a picture of that?" She wiped her mouth on her sleeve.

"Yes." Castiel grinned. "I think it will be a good picture. I hope it was in focus."

"Probably not. Those cameras suck." He tilted his head at her, confused.

"I don't understand. It does not inhale or take in anything on its own in any way. Does it?" He held it close to his face for further inspection. He held it above his face to look at the bottom. As he was holding it, a sprinkle dropped off of his ice-cream cone and stuck on the tip of his nose. Kathryn laughed harder. Castiel looked at her. "What appears to be funny?"

She was laughing so hard she couldn't reply, so she merely pointed. He went cross-eyed looking at the pink sprinkle. She was red faced and people were staring. Kathryn didn't care. She just wanted to be able to breathe again. He looked back at her, still confused.

"Should I be afraid?" he asked. She couldn't help but stop laughing to ask.

"Why would you be afraid?"

"You seem to have a very morbid sense of humor." She laughed harder still. He removed the pink sprinkle from his nose and looked at it. "And I have been eating its family. If you could call these a family." The Angel looked closer at the other sprinkles. "If they were a family, they're not a very good one. They shouldn't be letting their family get eaten." Her laughing slowed and she took another bite of her chocolate soft-serve. Castiel looked at her again. "That _is_ what families do, correct?"

She glanced up at him, smile fading. "You assume I would know this why?" she asked, licking ice-cream off her upper lip. He tilted his head again.

"You have never had a good family?"

"I've never had a family period." She nibbled on the cone. "There's a reason you found me on the streets. I just remember strangers fading in and out of my life. It seemed like when I learned their names, they would leave. So I tried to be bad at remembering names so it would take longer and maybe they would end up wanting to stay. Of course it never worked. The closest thing I had to a family was a stray dog, but it got rabies and someone killed it." She licked her chocolate cone again thoughtfully. "If what you said is what family does, it sounds pretty good. Having somebody to keep me from getting eaten… hmm." She trailed off into thought. When she snapped to, Castiel was looking at her with pity. "Don't do that."

"Do what?"

"Look at me like I'm some poor little puppy with no home." She leaned forward over the table. "You gave me a home." She smiled. "You're my owner." Kat giggled, but stopped when he replied.

"No, I am not your owner," Castiel corrected. "I am your family." She stared at him, blank stare frozen on her face. A drop of chocolate fell onto her hand. After a few moments, she reacted and licked it off.

"Thanks," the young blond woman said slowly.

"My family was never the best, but they were there. I am going to try to be there for you." He leaned forward as well. "If you ever need me, sing, and I will come."

Kathryn sighed elaborately. "Can't I just yell your name?" she asked.

"You cannot know my name yet," he responded.

"Why not?" she groaned.

"You will see," he answered.

She paused. Her eyes lit up. "Does it have to do with my powers?" Kat asked quietly. Castiel smiled and nodded. "Tell me more about them."

"I can't here."

"Yes you can, dad. Nobody would believe us." She looked like a four year old being told about knights in shining armor, princesses, dragons, and good wizards. "What are my powers going to be?"

He smiled. "You will find out when you get them," he said.

"What, you don't want to spoil the surprise?" Kat huffed.

"Yes." Castiel finished his ice-cream. "Come on, Kathryn. Let's get you back to the warehouse. You can get back to studying."

"Yessir!" She saluted dumbly. They stood up. As her father began walking away, Kat caught up and linked arms with him. The Angel looked taken aback as he walked, arm in arm with his daughter, who was messily finishing her chocolate ice-cream cone. He awkwardly bent his arm. Kat giggled, swallowed the last of the cone, and skipped next to him as he walked. She could see him awkwardly glancing at her out of the corner of her eye. She laughed.

(NOW)

She slowly pulled out her wallet and tucked the picture in behind her newest credit card. The name on the back was Johanna Milligan. There were two reasons she didn't get a credit card with her real name. The first reason was that it would be traceable back to her. The second reason was that she didn't have a last name. Or, if she did, she didn't know it. Her first memory was when she was five. She was sitting at the park. It had felt like she was waiting. For what, she couldn't remember, but she could still remember the brown haired woman waving at her from a van. She had a black haired boy in the back seat. The woman waved, then looked scared for a half second. The memory just ended there.

Kathryn shook herself to and finished tucking the picture of the ice-cream incident behind the credit card. She went outside to her car, taking off her Anasazi pendant necklace and throwing it into the glove box. She fixed her makeup in the rearview. The passenger door opened. Sam's smiling face shone in on her. "Flip the seat forward," she commanded, pointing at the lever that did it. Dean stood outside the car until Sam huffed and got in himself. Dean flipped the seat back down and sat in the front seat. The younger brother looked so uncomfortable in the back seat, cramped into a space that looked nearly half his size. Dean kicked his feet forward and casually leaned back in the seat, throwing his arm over the back of Kathryn's seat. She raised an eyebrow at him.

"What?" he asked.

"Next time, _Shorty_, you're riding back seat so Sasquatch doesn't have to suffocate," she growled, then started the car. ACDC poured from the speakers. "I get to choose the music."

"Driver picks the music, shotgun shuts his cakehole," Dean agreed.

"Glad you guys have that rule too," she laughed.

"Ah, Officer Brestine," a police officer beside the front door said as they walked into the victim's home. "Who are these fine specimens?"

"This is Officer Denison," Kathryn introduced. "These two are Feds. Agent Rhodes and Agent Webster." She pointed first to Sam and then Dean. The brothers held up their FBI badges. Dean didn't look too happy. "We came to look at the scene again."

"Okay, come with me," the officer replied.

Dean leaned in close to Sam and whispered something fiercely. "But you love Free Spirit," Sam answered quietly.

"Yeah, as Captain America's hot side-kick, not as _me_!" Dean pouted as Sam waved him off. They entered the living room area.

"You don't seem to understand," a woman cried. She was clearly not a Fed or a Police Officer. "We didn't open it!"

"Someone did," a man in a black suit answered, closing his briefcase and following a technician out of the house. "The lawsuit can't work in your favor if the microwave has been tampered with."

"Sorry to interrupt," Dean said, flashing his badge. Kathryn stood behind Sam, who stood at Dean's shoulder. "But we're working on this case and we need all the facts."

"Casey got this microwave two months back and now it's fried her!" the woman cried wildly.

"Ma'am, we need you to calm down," Sam cautioned. He looked at the insurance agent. "Could I get your story outside please?" They split off in a different direction. Dean glanced back at Kathryn. She looked instantly at the technician.

"Could I get _your_ story in another room?" she asked politely. He nodded and went into the other room. Kathryn caught Dean making a face and winked at him. She followed the man into the other room, which was the kitchen. There were still evidence numbers around, but they weren't around anything. Everything had been documented and taken except the white microwave. She noticed the brand. "So how long have you been working for Kenmore, Mr.…?" she asked.

"Tom. Tom Michelson. Four years," he answered.

"In all that time, have you ever seen or heard of a thing like this?"

"No. Well, one time a toddler fell into a freezer and died, but nothing really strange like this." Tom paused, waiting for the next question.

"So you said the microwave had been tampered with?" Kathryn questioned. "How had it been tampered with?"

"Let me just show you." He walked over and moved the microwave. The back panel had clearly been unscrewed and put back together. And clearly the person didn't know what they were doing. He pulled a screwdriver out and just pointed to the screws. "See, they should be in straighter and a bit tighter."

"Yes, I know." Kat had to fight to keep annoyance out of her voice. 'I'm not stupid,' she added internally. "So besides that, did you notice anything strange about the microwave?"

He shook his head. "Nope," he said. "I wasn't allowed to open it because the police hadn't taken a look at it yet."

"Okay." She looked closer at the microwave. "I think that's all I needed. Thank you for your time."

"No problem," Tom answered. They shook hands and Tom left the room. After making sure nobody else was coming, Kathryn knelt down and pulled out her silver switchblade. She took off the back panel of the microwave. She smiled at the contents. Taking care to put the panel back on the way she had found it, she tucked the hex bag into her jacket and left. She passed Dean on her way out. She nodded at him.

Sam was standing by the car. "Just the usual 'warranty and insurance' bull," he said as she walked up. She glanced around and stood close to him, opening her jacket and showing the hex bag. Dean came up behind her, glancing over her shoulder at the thing. It was brown leather and tied with old twine.

"Well," he muttered.

Kat glanced between them. "I've got some work to do," she said solemnly. She walked around the side of the car to the driver's side, patting the roof of the car. "Let's get going."


End file.
